| Monday, January 10
By Frank Hughes
Special to ESPN.com |
|
With a heavy heart and a fuzzy conscience, I very, very reluctantly admit
that once, 35 or 40 years ago, in my very impressionable youth, I was ... I
was ... I was ... OK, I was a roto geek.
There. I said it.
I was a roto geek.
That's what it was like when I had to say it at Roto Geeks Anonymous. You
know, a bunch of whacked-out dudes carrying around three weeks of box scores,
team rosters from every sports league and a calculator to figure out what it
means when Marty Conlon just got an assist on a basket by Matt Fish.
"Cool, Marty's assist-to-turnover ratio just improved."
I mean, I was in it, man. I was in it deep. I knew it was time to get out
when we were trying to start a roto league for roller derby, and one of the
categories for points was bra sizes.
So I went to Roto Geeks Anonymous, and I admitted what I just admitted to
you, that I was ... I was ... OK, I was a roto geek.
And they all chimed, "Hi, Biff."
What, you think I gave them my real name?
That's what I don't get. They call it Alcoholics Anonymous and Roto Geeks
Anonymous and every other Anonymous you can think of, but then you have to
give them your name, they mail you stuff at your home address, your sponsor
gets your phone number. Doesn't really sound anonymous to me.
Why can't they just be like, "Hi, guy with the black hair, blue eyes and
cheesy smile."
Or, "Hi, guy with the 327-pound beer belly."
"Or, "Hi, woman missing two front teeth."
Well, now that I've admitted I was a roto geek, I'm taking others down
with me. You would not have wanted me as the captain of the Titanic, because
if I were, nobody's getting off the ship. If I'm going down with it, well,
let's have a party. Our back teeth would be swimming just before we go
swimming, but those dinghys are staying put.
Let's see, who else was in our group: ESPN's best basketball reporter,
David Aldridge; my editor at ESPN.com, Eric Karabell; the head of sports at America Online;
the son of the executive editor of U.S. News and World Report; a soccer
reporter for the Washington Post; and some other sundry chaps.
You know who was the worst roto geek of all time? Aldridge. I mean, this
cat knows his stuff about the NBA, but he couldn't put together an NBA roto
team that could beat an egg. We called him Elgin. ( I hope he's not reading this.)
At first we let him in because we thought he would be stiff competition,
which we roto geeks really like, but then we allowed him to stay because we
knew he was easy pickings -- which we roto geeks really like even more.
We used to have secret meetings about how we could dupe Aldridge into
giving up Karl Malone -- a roto God -- for David Wingate, who somehow stands
out on the floor for 12 minutes and does absolutely nothing -- which we roto
geeks absolutely abhor. He must move about as well as the three-point line,
because Wingate's box score was always the dreaded 12 trillion.
But what happened was Aldridge would interview some guy like Wingate,
think he was a great person and mistake him for a great player. He'd think he
has to get Wingate on his roto team, and before you know it, Aldridge
is wondering why his team is submerged deeper than the Caspian Sea.
The first rule of roto geekdom is: You can't get too close.
Which brings me to the long-awaited point of this column.
The sports world is in trouble because the roto geeks are taking over.
Take it from a former roto geek; this is bad.
I mean, first you had that yahoo punk Daniel Snyder take over the
Washington Redskins, my Washington Redskins, my beloved team for which I used
to root when a guy named Chris Hanburger played linebacker at RFK and I used
to think they spelled the name wrong on the back of his jersey.
Then you had AOL executive Ted Leonsis buy the Washington Capitals and
part of the Washington Wizards, which he will fully take over when that
perennial dolt Abe Pollin retires. Hey, Abe, you're 137, time to call it
quits, babe.
And now, down in Dallas, you have former Broadcast.com founder Mark Cuban
all set to purchase the Dallas Mavericks.
I guaran-freaking-tee you that all three of these dudes were roto geeks at
one time, and they all think they know how to run a team. Suddenly, in this
crazy Internet world, they have come into billions before they have come into
their mid-life crisis, and they have turned roto geekdom into reality, where
you really do own the team you have on paper.
Frighteningly, they still think they know how to run a team, probably
because they finished something like fifth in their roto leagues. You watch,
in coming years, you're going to see a bunch of crazy trades that make no
sense, until you realize that some roto geek owner wanted a guy on his team
for some esoteric reason.
I can just see it: This guy Cuban calls the Sonics and says: "I'll give
you Michael Finley for Lazaro Borrell."
"Why would you want to do that?" a wary Wally Walker says.
"Because he's Cuban, and that's my last name."
"Deal."
I mean, it's not all bad. Word is Don Nelson is going to fired when Cuban takes over, and all I can say is, "About time."
I tell you what, Nelson should run for president, because somehow he dupes
people into paying him for just showing up and screwing things up. Let's see,
Nelson is now being paid by the Golden State Warriors, the New York Knicks,
the Dallas Mavericks for holding two positions, social security, medicare,
Goodwill, Purple Heart and the Dallas Rotary Club -- which is different than
the Dallas Roto Club. I hear Nelson will be getting a weekend job at the
corner store to supplement his income.
Look, here's all you need to know about Cuban: Ross Perot Jr. -- does he
lose that Jr. deal when his old man kicks it? -- buys the team three years
ago for $125 million, and Cuban pays him $280 million. No way in hell that
team, which has finished below Texas A&M in the standings the past three
years, goes up that much in value. But this guy doesn't care. He just wants
the team.
I know that pattern. I was there. That's roto geekdom at its finest.
Anything to get the team, get the player, get the stats. Anything to make a
deal. If I were a player on his team, just before my contract year, I'd take
him out, buy him a few drinks, get a few groupies to show up, party all
night, have a good time.
The next day, when he is still reveling in the glory of the night before,
I'd tell him I want that sweet $11-million maximum contract, even though I
averaged 2.1 points, 1.2 rebounds and 7 turnovers the year before.
Sure, good buddy, Cuban will say, thinking I am a great player simply
because I am a great guy.
You don't believe me? Ask Aldridge.
Frank Hughes covers the NBA for the Tacoma (Wash.) News-Tribune. He is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. |  |
Fouled Out: Reflections of life, sport
